Firecracker
by The QPM
Summary: AU. Niki wins the races and James gets the girls, but now that they both drive for the same race team, will this ring the changes? Not slash.
1. Chapter 1

Niki looked at the speedometer of the car and ran his hand exasperatedly through his hair. "Slow down, you asshole. Are you trying to kill us both?"

"That's rather ironic coming from my new team-mate," replied James, "Anyway, it was you who wanted to get to the test track early to impress your new boss."

Niki scowled. After parting company with his previous race team, it had seemed like a good idea to sign with the same one as James; a decision that he was now starting to regret.

"It might have escaped your attention that this is not a race track," stated Niki, "And besides, I would like to get to our destination in one piece."

"Relax. You always get het up when I drive."

"That's because you drive like an asshole."

"And you drive like an old man."

"I do not. There is just no need to drive fast. It only increases the percentage of risk. Twenty per cent chance…"

"…I can live with, but not one per cent more," mimicked James.

"Now you're just taking the piss. May I remind you that this is an urban road with speed limits and unforeseen hazards?"

James took his eyes off the road and looked at Niki. "Seriously though, what's likely to happen at this time of the morning? A hedgehog crossing the road maybe, or a rabbit getting caught in the headlights…"

"Pass auf!" yelled Niki, in German.

"Don't tell me to piss off."

Niki pointed out of the windscreen. "Nien, vorsicht! Achtung!"

James looked back at the road again. Up ahead, there was a stationary car signalling to turn right into a petrol station and he was swiftly gaining on it. With no room for James to pass the car on the left hand side, there was only one thing left for him to do – hit the brakes.

Niki braced himself and waited for the collision. There was a dull crunch as James swerved his car into a ditch. A flock of crows flew up out of the hedge, cawing loudly. Still, the jolt was enough to throw them forwards; their seatbelts propelling them back into their seats, causing the back of Niki's head to smash into the plastic-moulded headrest of his seat. Then all went black.

As Niki regained consciousness, he could hear the sound of steam hissing through the car's radiator, James swearing profusely and a solitary crow still protesting. He touched the left side of his jaw where the seatbelt had cut into him. It felt wet. Niki looked down at his fingertips; they were coated red.

He looked across at James, who was rubbing his neck and shoulder, whilst still cussing. Painfully, Niki undid his seatbelt and put his hand on the door handle, when it was pulled from his grasp. With the car titled on an angle, Niki almost fell out of his seat and into the ditch. A hand reached out and grabbed him by the arm – a female hand.

"Jaysus. Are you okay?" the woman asked, escorting him out of the car and away from the ditch.

Niki's eyes traced a line from her hand and then stopped at her face. Pale with freckles and a mass of auburn-coloured hair, it was kindly and full of concern. Gold-coloured spectacles framed her emerald-green eyes.

"Feck, you're bleeding!" She pulled a wad of tissues out of her handbag, thrust them into Niki's hand and manoeuvred his arm to the side of his face. "Hold that there."

"It's just a scratch…" began Niki.

"What the bloody hell were you doing in the middle of the road like that?" shouted James, as he came round to the front of the car.

She looked over the top of her glasses. "Sorry?"

"You! Middle of the road! What the f…ARGH!"

"Stall the ball. It's a straight enough road, which leads me to believe that you must have been speeding. You're lucky you haven't killed anybody, ya eejit."

Niki nodded in agreement.

"This is not a race- track," she continued, "If you want to drive at speed like that, then I suggest you become a racing driver."

Niki started to smile. "He is a racing driver. We both are."

The woman walked towards her car. "Then I hope you drive better on a race track than you do on the road." She stopped and looked back at them both. "So, who do you drive for?"

"QPM Rover," answered James.

She nodded and then looked at James' car. "You're going to need a tow truck to get that out of there. Your car's banjaxed."

She got back into her car and pulled across the road into the petrol station.

"Mick bitch!" spat James.

"Asshole."

"Can you call women assholes then?"

"No, you're the asshole," retorted Niki, pushing James aside, "I told you to slow down, but you didn't listen."

Still holding the now bloodied wad of tissues against his jaw, Niki tipped the driver's seat forwards and retrieved his holdall from the back seat. He crossed over the road and walked towards the petrol station.

"Where are you going?" shouted James.

"To get us a tow truck. Asshole."

End Of Chapter One


	2. Chapter 2

Niki went over to where the woman was filling up with petrol. "Nice car."

She looked up. "Thank you."

"Nineteen seventy-three MGB GT V8," continued Niki, "Only three were made that year and only about two thousand in total by nineteen seventy-six."

"You certainly know your cars," she said, replacing the nozzle, "I'm impressed."

"I told you, I'm a racing driver."

She looked Niki up and down. "You don't look like a racing driver."

"Why, what should a racing driver look like?"

She glanced over at James. "Tall with blonde hair, blue eyes and a wide-open shirt."

Niki felt somewhat crest-fallen.

She started to laugh. "I'm only codding ya."

Niki smiled and then looked at the bloodied tissues he was holding. "I was going to ask if…"

"…you could have some more tissues?"

"Ja, but if you could also give us a lift to the QPM Rover test track. They've got a tow truck there."

She glanced over at James again. "I'm not taking that eejit."

"Why?"

"It's a two-seater car. Or didn't you notice that? Go on, get in."

She strode off in the direction of the pay kiosk. Niki put his holdall in the boot of the MGB and got into the passenger seat. She returned, got into the driver's seat and started up the engine. Driving out of the petrol station, she pulled up alongside James and shouted, "We'll be back as soon as we can."

"What about me?"

"Sorry, no room," answered Niki.

She put her foot down on the accelerator and the MGB roared off down the road; the reflection in the car's wing-mirror showed James giving them a one-fingered salute. Niki looked at the speedometer. It was doing a steady forty miles per hour. He folded his arms contentedly and relaxed back into his seat. The woman looked across at him. "So, what's your name?"

"Niki."

She took her right hand off the steering wheel and held it out. "How do. I'm Q."

Niki quickly shook her hand. "Cue? As in snooker cue?"

She placed it back onto the steering wheel. "No, the letter 'Q'..."

"Is it short for something?"

"...as in QPM Rover."

Niki now knew who she was.

"But, if you can guess my first name by the time we reach our destination, you can buy me dinner tonight."

In any other situation, Niki would have gladly taken her out, but he did not want to mix business with pleasure. "I can't think of any names beginning with 'Q'."

"You're not trying hard enough. I hope you'll try much harder in a race."

They drove the rest of the journey in silence until they reached their destination.

"Come on," she said, parking the car and getting out.

"Where are we going?"

"To take a gander at that wound."

Niki retrieved his holdall from the boot and then followed her into the building and down a long corridor until they reached an office. On the door was a brass plaque engraved with the words Q. P. McNamara.

"Sit down," she said, pulling out a chair.

Niki sat down and looked around the room. A portrait of a distinguished-looking man was hanging above the fireplace.

"Now this might sting," she said, as she cleaned and dressed Niki's wound. He winced and then looked down at her left hand. She was not wearing a wedding ring. The office door opened and a man entered the room; the same man in the painting, albeit thirty years older.

"Christ, it's lashing out of the heavens." He looked at her and then at Niki. "Where's the other one?"

"Howya, Da. He's back along the road about a mile away. He totalled his car in a ditch."

"Christ on a bike. And you left him there?"

"I only had the two-seater and this one here was bleeding..."

"Jaysus. Go back and pick him up. I'll tell Paddy to bring the tow truck."

The man removed his hat and held out his hand for Niki to shake. "Q. P. McNamara. Owner of QPM Rover, but my friends and colleagues call me Quentin."

Niki looked puzzled. "But I thought..."

The woman started to smile.

"Oh, has she been letting on that she's the boss?" laughed Quentin, "Ah, she does that to all the new drivers. Mind you, we do have the same initials, except her name's..."

"Hush, Da."

"Oh, she's playing that game with you, is she? Right, girl, let's crack on. It's bucketing down out there. I'll just phone Paddy."

Niki stood up and looked at the woman. "I'll come with you."

A short while later, they were driving back along the same road with a rain-soaked James sat in the tow truck with Paddy; his car hooked up to the back of it. The woman pushed a cassette tape into the in-car player and a song by Manfred Mann started to play. She looked over at Niki. "So, if you can guess my first name by the time we reach our destination, you can buy me dinner tonight."

Niki turned up the music and grinned. "The Mighty Quinn."

She grinned back. "So, what's it going to be? Indian, Italian or Chinese?"

"I think I'd prefer Irish," said Niki.

The End


End file.
